


Meal Plans

by Dangersocks



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Gen, M/M, Spoilers, took shameless liberties with timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangersocks/pseuds/Dangersocks
Summary: When Peter works with Juno and Rita, they have the meals covered.





	Meal Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ernmark (M_Moonshade)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/gifts).



> I finally got something out for the Penumbra. I promised my girl a story and I apologise for how long it took to deliver. Also, we'll blame Ernmark for getting my lady and myself into the fandom. _How dare you._
> 
> Loosely edited.
> 
> Finally, 10,000 apologies for the poor attempt at Rita's accent. I adore her but I can personally pull off just a "Mistah Steel" before it gets lost. Though I will still say it a hundred times a day.

Stealing the map had not been the most difficult part of their present case.

 

Peter rubs at his eyes. They are sore, but he will not concede to a break after watching Juno try to parse the secrets of these Interplanetary Archive blueprints. When Peter covers his face, he finds the swirling particles burned into his mind. It will only be a matter of time before the patterns show. Before the getta-rays stop obscuring the secrets of what Deimos’ government is storing on their moon. Uncovering that secret on his own means Juno will be spared the agony that his implant triggers when pushed to problem-solve.

 

Even if Juno’s way is faster, they don’t need to rush this.

 

The optic implant is too much like the martian pill, the thief knows. Instead of nosebleeds, Juno has migraines. It had taken a lot of work to convince Juno to let Peter have this task, as the dear detective seemed to like suffering for his work. 

 

Not necessary this time, Nureyev had decreed.

 

“RITA?!”

 

From the next room, the detective is obviously still irritated. Also, finally awake.

 

Peter pauses, straining an ear to catch the tone in his detective. He may have to get up and put Juno back to bed.

 

“What is it Mistah Steel? I checked when I was at thuh store and you di’nt message me any new items for thuh grocery list.”

 

“That’s because I didn’t think you knew how to pick up food. And I was right. What the hell is this?”

 

Peter relaxes back into his chair, hearing in Juno’s outrage none of the ragged hitch that accompanies pain. It is nice to know that Juno isn’t trying to peek through walls. His dear is just surly, which is a standard it seems. Peter no longer flinches for Rita’s sake, either, as she gives as good as she gets. 

 

“It is too food, Mistah Steel. I know my commercials inside and out, I do. The Saffron Prince would never lie tah me and I saw every one a’ his specials on fillin’ a shoppin’ list.”

 

“This is...what is this? Calorie Cube?”

 

“ _ Diet _ Calorie Cube,” corrects the secretary, sounding quite pleased with herself. “It has none a’ thuh calories.”

 

“Then what is the  _ point _ , Rita?”

 

Something is thrown in the other room. Peter scowls at his work, wondering if he should remind his companions as to the focus required for what he does. X-ray and getta-ray clues were not going to find themselves. Without Juno’s eye, Peter needed to concentrate. Going out, though, would likely encourage Juno to come in and take up the task. That would not do.

 

Peter silently waits for the dramatics to pass. As endearing as they are in most circumstances, right now he much prefered when Rita was on the town and Juno was snoring.

 

“And this isn’t anything edible, either. You only bought one because Chris Chrisswell is on the box.”

 

“He’s on thuh box eatin’, isn’t he? You tellin’ me that doesn’t count for somethin’? And besides, Boss, this was in thuh instant meal aisle?”

 

“Are you sure about that, Rita?” snaps Juno. “If we went down to the market right now, we’d find this there? Because I don’t think so.”

 

“It was! Or...maybe like, next to it.”

 

“I can’t believe this.”

 

“It was in thuh same store, Mistah Steel.”

 

A groan. 

 

“Fine then, Boss. Be like that. But remember that I’m your secretary, not your grocery-gettah!”

 

“I’m done. I’m so done with this. I’ll go get us food. We shouldn’t have to starve while we wait for Peter to advance this case. Tell him I’m going out!”

 

“You can tell him yourself. I’m your secretary, not your message-givah.”

 

“That’s exactly what a secre -- You know what? Nevermind.”

 

A door slams shut with enough force to make Peter’s jerry-rigged hologram-hack shudder. He holds still, Mars dust glittering as it crosses over the field. The silence that follows is palpable. Peter can usually work his way through countless obstacles without losing motivation and cheer, but perhaps, like Juno, Nureyev’s reached the end of his reserve of patience and good cheer. He catches himself grinding his teeth. For a Juno and Rita argument, this had been particularly tame. 

 

Perhaps Peter is just overly concerned with the implant. This chronic suffering may count as usual for Juno, but it does not have to be. This case is not of a dire, time-ticking importance, which is another aspect to consider -- boredom creates stagnation.

 

Peter realizes, too, that he is hungry. A nice sit-down together with his partners would be ideal.

 

A second later, Rita goes, “oh yeah! I guess that’s what I do after all! Mistah Rose?” Her knock is expected.

 

“Come in, Rita,” Peter sings, a bit more subdued than he’d like. He does send a smile her way. As genuine as he can muster.

 

She pokes her head in. “Mistah Rose, Juno went tah get supper. While we wait, didja wanna a calorie-free Calorie Cube? This one’s a bit banged up but it’s all thuh rage..”

 

“No, thank you,” declines the thief. “I wouldn’t want to spoil dinner.” That is as close as he will get to expressing how grateful he is that Juno had the sense to not subject them all to convenience-store fare. “You know him best, my dear. Any thoughts on what he’ll bring home?” 

 

"Ahhhh, the usual I'd guess," she shrugs, playing with the wrapper of the rejected treat. "Probably a platter from Grub-Jubs's value menu."

 

"Oh. I...I see." Peter pulls his glasses off, aware that he may never be  _ that _ hungry. "You know what? I need a break. I will go give Juno a hand."

 

Or more likely steer Juno to something that will actually count as food. Peter is confident that while he may be stuck with this encryption, he will not be stuck in the bad habits of sloppy mealtimes. 


End file.
